Did you miss me?
by ARedRedRose
Summary: John and Sherlock's world have been rocked by Moriarty's apparent return. Once again Sherlock feared the emotional attachment which had led to him having to fake his own death and leave John to keep him safe. But John had spent two long years without Sherlock, and, despite his marriage to Mary, he was not going to allow Sherlock to isolate himself again.


Did you miss me?

John walked upstairs at 221B Baker Street. It had been a tough day. For him. For Sherlock.

Normal life had seemed to have resumed after Sherlock's return from the dead. Married life had brought John comfort and contentment which he hadn't had for years, if ever. And the anger he felt at being re-united with his supposedly dead best friend was easing each day was being replaced with the joy of the closeness, intimacy even, of their relationship.

But today had rocked John's world again. And Sherlock's.

Moriarty's "did you miss me?" message broadcast on screens up and down the country. He and Sherlock had hardly had time to measure their own response before they'd been hounded down by Mycroft, Lestrade and their respective teams. Sherlock had cursed himself realising that he'd been too quick to believe what his eyes had seen three years ago when Moriarty appeared to commit suicide on the rooftop from which he himself had jumped. In his emotional state he'd failed to consider all the possibilities. Failed to see that things might not have been what they seemed to an ordinary observer. Failed to see that, if he could fake his own suicide, so could Moriarty.

John had seen fear today in Sherlock as he'd never before seen it. The man who threatened Sherlock by targeting his closest, his only friend, was apparently back. Sherlock's usual bullet-proof confidence had shown cracks and vulnerability. He didn't know how he'd find Sherlock as he opened the apartment door.

Sherlock sat in his chair by the fire, frozen.

"Tea?" John asked, but could not elicit a response.

John busied himself in the kitchen for a few minutes, making tea for them both, and tidying up a little.

He felt a lump swell in his throat as he returned towards the fire with tea and took his seat opposite Sherlock. Sherlock was lost in thought, but not in his normal fiery-but-controlled manner. He appeared to be consumed by fear and emotion. John pored the tea and took it over to Sherlock. John hesitated. All day Sherlock had avoided getting close to John. As if his mere presence reminded him of the emotional attachment which had got him into this mess in the first place. But John was unwilling to let Sherlock keep his distance indefinitely. Logic may well have dictated it. But surely Sherlock had learnt that emotional attachments could be interesting, worthwhile even? Sherlock had sacrificed two years of his life for John. John went through hell and back in his grief, but he wouldn't have wanted to feel any other way, and why should he let Sherlock do this now?

John reached out to place a hand on Sherlock's shoulder as he sat, still frozen. "Tea" he said. He should have moved away, but couldn't. He couldn't let Sherlock do this to him, or indeed to himself. This was what Jim Moriarty wanted! Sherlock, cold and clinical. Sherlock, alone in the world. John perched on the arm of the chair, keeping his hand gently on Sherlock's shoulder.

After an age, Sherlock closed his eyes and placed a hand on John's. His touch felt electric, and John gasped, only just audibly. Sherlock close his eyes. "I need you John" he said, sharing his emotions for the first time that day. "I need you too Sherlock" John replied.

Sherlock stood up and moved towards the fire, unsure how to continue the conversation. He'd never got involved with anyone before. He'd never had friends, not until John. He'd successfully kept an emotional distance from everyone until him, and that had been healthy, and certainly easier, had it not? Any yet, only a few months previously, he'd started to pour out his emotion for John in his best man's speech at his wedding to Mary.

Mary, thought Sherlock. There were good, logical reasons why he should not let himself get so close to John again. She was a good reason. John would never forgive him if their close friendship got in the way of his marriage. God, he'd been berating Sherlock for years about the disruption he caused to his efforts to date women. Cases came up at the least convenient times, Sherlock interrupted numerous dinners, drinks and even bedroom activities. Since his return from death, John seemed to have negotiated a relationship with Sherlock that was almost acceptable to Mary. Mary was good for John.

But since Moriarty's return, Sherlock couldn't help but feel torn. He wanted John closer, but he'd been pushing away all day. His self-control finally gave way as he turned to face John. He longed for John. Had always longed for him. With delicate hands he reached out and held John's face, taking a step closer to him. "Sherlock?" said John quietly. "I need you John" he said, his eyes welling up before he moved his lips gently to touch John's.

John remained still for what seemed to Sherlock like an eternity. Every conceivable emotion ran through John's veins, but the intimacy of Sherlock's gentle kiss was delicious and intoxicating. He parted his lips and allowed Sherlock to gently explore his mouth. Sherlock's tongue was soft and delicate. He sunk into Sherlock's embrace. John placed his hands on Sherlock's arms, and then his sides, brushing his fitted shirt. Sexy. Was he even allowed to think that, he questioned? He was a married man. A straight married man, kissing his best friend!

John stepped back quickly. What was going on, he wondered? Moriarty had knocked the senses out of them!

"Sorry John" said Sherlock, who'd turned to face the fire again. "I lost control, I shouldn't have done that. I don't want to do anything to change us John" he said, his velvety voice cracking a little.

Sherlock closed his eyes. I really have lost him this time he thought, biting his lip as a tear rolled down his cheek.

John stood for a moment, watching Sherlock. Logic dictated that he should turn around now, walk out of the flat, back to Mary, and carve out an ordinary life for himself, just as he had when Sherlock had gone the first time.

But logic was for Sherlock.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's slim torso, nuzzling his head into his back, breathing in his scent. He pressed himself against Sherlock's body, wanting the moment to last forever.

He felt Sherlock's breathing ease then quicken, his shoulders relax, and tension seep away. Sherlock turned to John, tears in his eyes, and this time John took Sherlock's face in his hands and placed a kiss on his lips. "I love you, you know" he said after a moment, and they collapsed onto Sherlock's chair by the fire, and embraced each other for what felt like hours.


End file.
